Reunion
by susies-fandom-wonders
Summary: Anonymous requested a fic where Descole dies abs is reunited with his wife and daughter.


Anon says: *BREAKS DOWN DOOR* INhaLe: I see me sad Des boy and I would like to see MOREEE!!! *eye sparkle* Could you perhaps write a very feely fic after Descole dies and is reunited with his wife and daughter?

*insert that one bird screaming picture*

I hope I don't end up hurting myself with this lol… my trick is I completely just… let my mind disconnect with my feelings and just let my fingers type. It ain't my mind, it's my fingers that do the mahhhhgiccccc. (I'm not actually sure how I got so good at writing ffffff… you should see the crappy [unfinished] fanfics that I did on creepypastas… not a good moment in my life)

ANNNNYWAYYYYS, here is the request 3

Oh my GOSH I just thought of something…. What if in Azran Legacy when they all died… what if he saw his wife and daughter and they hugged him and said 'it's not your time yet' and then he woke up and was like 'no'... new headcannon here my dudes

Reunion

Descole groaned as he sat up, the pains from the gunshots he had suffered from still troublesome, but now tolerable. He sat up, clenching his teeth together as he subconsciously checked to see if the mask was still on his face.

It seemed to be. He checked his wou --

He paused. There should be wounds, he could feel the agonizing pain of where the bullets had entered his body. So why weren't there any wounds?

Dark red blood pooled around him, and he staggered to his feet, looking around with confusion. The Targent moles were still there, but their guns, and eyes, were concentrated on the floor, not him. He turned and looked down, and blinked several times in surprise.

He was staring at his own body.

"How… how strange," he started carefully as he knelt down next to himself, "am… I dead?" This didn't surprise him as much as it should have. It was bound to happen one day, with Raymond retiring it left him without any impulse control. He just didn't… expect this to happen.

He wasn't one to believe in the afterlife, but this was the strangest thing Descole had ever experienced in his entire lifetime. Not even Aurora topped this.

"I'd say he's dead." One of the spectacled people spoke up. The small cluster of Targent men approached Descole's body. One man poked him with the barrel of his pistol, then knelt down and pressed two fingers to the body's neck. He gave a slow nod after a few seconds.

"He's dead." This was very… surreal. The phantom pains had dulled to low aches, and Descole could hear soft footsteps approaching him.

"...Des?" He froze. That was the absolute last voice he'd been expecting. He turned slowly towards the voice.

His breath (could ghosts breathe? he wasn't sure) hitched in his throat at the sight of his wife, his daughter hiding behind her mother and looking at him curiously.

"Desmond?" His wife asked again, and his mind froze. He struggled to find words for a few seconds, the soft murmmurings of the Targent men behind him turning into a dull roar.

This couldn't be happening. It absolutely could. Not. Be. Happening. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes long before they trailed down his face, effectively fogging up his mask. He slowly took off the object, and his wife's eyes began to water, too, as she saw the brick red eyes.

"Oh, honey….," She started. Their daughter grinned and came running over, hugging her father's leg.

"Daddy!" She smiled, those gaps in her teeth exactly like he last saw her, her freckles peppering her face and neck. Descole -- Desmond -- finally let himself cry, big, sparkling tears trailing down his face, his chin, disappearing before they hit the floor. He knelt down, wrapping his arms tightly around his daughter. After a moment, he felt two pairs of arms wrap around his body just as tightly. He collapsed, just focusing on the two most important things in his life, as he began crying harder, blubbering out apology after apology of how 'he should have done something different'.

"Desmond." The red-eyed man sniffed, looking up. His wife looked at him with a stern expression, then it softened, and she used a thumb to brush away the tears. "Stop beating yourself up over this. We still love you. We forgive you."

Desmond felt their daughter stirring underneath his arms. She looked up at him.

"I still love you, daddy." He gave a watery smile, sniffing as he wiped his tears with the back of his hands.

He could handle this. He was with his family. His most precious treasure.

"And I love you, my little flower."


End file.
